'We call her Kokóna,' she answered. 'Is not that the Greek word for young lady, your Magnificence?'
'Yes,' said Zeno, 'that is the Greek word for young lady. But Arethusa is only a slave as you are. Why do you give her a title? What makes you think she is a lady?'
'She is a different kind of slave. She cost much gold. Besides, if we did not call her Kokóna she would perhaps pull our hair or scratch our faces. Who knows? We are only ignorant little maids, but so much the big negress at the slave-prison taught us.'
'She taught you manners, did she?' Zeno smiled at the idea.
'She made us cry very often, but it was the better for us,' answered the maid, with philosophy beyond her years. 'We have fetched a good price, and we have a good master, and we are together, all because we waited cleverly on the Kokóna one night and one morning.'
'One night?' asked Zeno, in surprise.
'She was only brought to the slave-prison yesterday evening, Magnificence.'
'At what time?'
'It was the third hour of darkness, for the black woman sent the others to bed as soon as she was brought.'
Zeno thought over this information for a moment.